


Cover Me

by TiyeTiye



Category: Vikings - Fandom
Genre: 1920's, Bootleggers, Caught in the Crossfire, Gun battle, New York City, Prohibition, Rum Rummers, The Watchers - Freeform, Vengeance is mine, fire fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: The Watchers/Vengeance is Mine crossover. Ubbe x Moncha. 20s gangster Ubbe finds himself the unwilling rescuer of a woman caught in the crossfire of a minor fight. He drags her into his car and peels off with her both cursing and thanking him. Somewhere, he thinks as he drives, the gods are laughing at him.





	Cover Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pokeasleepingsmaug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokeasleepingsmaug/gifts).



> A gift for the wonderful @pokeasleepingsmaug on tumblr as part of the Friday Night Heathen prompt game.

Ubbe’s ears were still ringing from the force of the grenade blast as his hands fumbled to re-load his pistol. As he slid the last bullet home, a frightened shriek caught his attention. It’s the girl, the new waitress from Ireland, Moncha -crouched behind the sideboard, curled up as small as she can go. She’d been quick enough to take what shelter she could when the grenade had blasted a hole in the far wall and the bullets had started flying, but it wouldn’t keep her safe for long. Her wooden shield was being steadily eaten away and Ubbe spotted a bright smear of crimson across her cheek as he caught her eye in the chaos.

“Aww _God_ _dammit,_ ” Ubbe cursed aloud to no one in particular. He and Hvitserk were taking cover behind the heavy wooden table in the back room of Judy’s, less than fifteen feet from where Moncha had taken shelter, but under Harald and Halfdan’s rain of bullets she might have been a mile away. Moncha was frozen in place, absolutely terrified, but there was a stubborn set to her jaw and a quickness to her breathing that told Ubbe she might be working herself up to doing something very stupid. He decided he’d better beat her to it. 

“Cover me!” he shouted in Hvitserk’s ear, and threw himself out into the open. He vaguely registered Hvitserk’s “What the **_hell_** _?!_ ” as he took his first few steps, but by thenHvitserk was already firing and the bullets of Harald’s men were shattering the stone floor around his feet and it was too late to stop. 

“What are ye doing?!” Moncha screamed as he slid to a stop beside her, her eyes wide and frightened. 

“Saving you, woman! Now get up!” Moncha started to rise, but threw herself back down as a bullet struck the wall beside her head. Ubbe grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her with him as he surged to his feet. “I said _come on_!” he roared as he dragged her with him back behind the table. 

Hvitserk smiled as they took cover next to him. 

“Y’alright brother?” he asked as he paused in his firing to jam a new handful of bullets into his pistol. 

“Yeah, these Georgia boys can’t hit the broad side of a barn.” Ubbe managed to grin back before taking his turn firing around the edge of the table. 

“Moncha? Y’alright?” The Irishwoman was visibly trembling between them, eyes unfocused a still breathing heavily, and Hvitserk’s eyes grew concerned. “Moncha? You okay? Are you hit?” His hand came up to brush the woman’s black hair out of her face, cupped her chin and turned her gently to face him, yet when their eyes met, something brought Moncha back to herself and she snarled and smacked his hand away. 

“Get off me!” she snarled and then yelped as a long splinter of wood was blown off the table above her head. “Fecking _Americans…._ I get out o’ Dublin only ta die in the back room of yet another fecking _pub_!” She gave a hysterical little laugh and her hand came up to grasp the gold cross around her neck, her eyes flicking up to the ceiling “I bet ye’re all laughing yer arses off up there, eh?” She looked back to Ubbe and Hvitserk on either side of her, steel coming back into her eyes. “Gimme a gun.” 

“ _What?_ ” Ubbe said as Hvitserk took a turn firing. 

“Gimme a gun! I can tell ye have another!” 

“Do you even know how to _use_ one?” 

“Well enough! An’ by God, if I’m goin’ to die here today, I’ll _not_ go to meet the angels empty handed!” 

“Just give her your goddamn spare Ubbe!” Hvitserk shouted over the sound of gunfire. “Now is _not_ the time to be chivalrous!” 

“ _Fine_.” Ubbe growled, handing her the small revolver. “Just don’t come crying to me when you shoot your fingers off!” 

“Well, if ye’ve taken proper care of your guns, I won’t have to!” Moncha squeezed off a few shots over the top of the table while Hvitserk reloaded, but stopped when a voice called out from the far doorway. 

“Ubbe! Ubbe Ragnarsson!” called a voice in a thick Southern drawl. “You and Hvitserk had enough yet? You ready to come out and talk now? I give you my word that you and your brother and the little lady will not be harmed.” 

The three of them looked at each other in silence for a moment, Ubbe trying desperately to think of a way to talk the three of them out of there, but Moncha beat him to it. 

“Oh shut yer lyin’ mouth, ya feckin’ gobshite!” she screamed and fired over the top of the table again. “What?!” she said to Ubbe’s outraged look. “The man’s a feckin’ bodach - ye know as well as I do that ’e’s not just goin’ ta let us leave!” 

“She _is_ right Ubbe,” Hvitserk added. 

“You _stop_ encouraging her!” Ubbe growled. 

“You stop talkin’ about me like I’m a damn _child,_ ” Moncha snarled back. 

“Ubbe! What’s it going to be?! Come out so we can talk like men!” Harald called, and Ubbe thought he heard Halfdan’s giggle. “Ubbe - come on now! You’ve got no way out, so come out of there and let’s talk!”

Hvitserk shook his head. “If we can get out back, we can grab the car from the alley.” 

Ubbe nodded. “Just have to get there.”

“We can take the tunnel.” 

Moncha went red. “There’s a _fecking tunnel?!_ ” 

“Yes! Keep your voice down!” Ubbe hissed. 

“There’s a _fecking tunnel?!”_ Moncha said again. “And you’re just thinkin’ of it _now_?!” 

“There is a _secret_ tunnel for bringing in shipments and avoiding the cops that Harald was not supposed to know about!”

A bullet thudded into the thick wood behind them and all three of them flinched. 

“I’m losing my patience Ubbe!” Harald shouted. 

“Well, it’s not like we can stay ‘ere eejit!” Moncha said. “Let’s _go_!” 

“ _Fine_.” Ubbe growled, tucking his pistol away, and gesturing to the heavy table. “Hvitserk, help me flip this up. And you, _missy_ , you just do your best to give us some cover.” 

Moncha scowled at him. “Bleedin’ thick-headed bollix,” she snarled, but she readied her borrowed pistol just as he asked. 

“Ready?” Ubbe said, and Hvitserk nodded. “One, two, _three_.” 

Grunting, the two men heaved the table up and turned it ninety degrees, huddling behind it like a long shield and dragging it backward, keeping Moncha in front of them so she could lean around and fire back at their would-be pursuers. 

“Stop them!” Ubbe heard Harald’s angry shout over the renewed gunfire. 

The brothers dragged their table across the floor to the small fireplace against the back wall. Ubbe shoved the mantlepiece backwards, and it slid into a hidden slot in the wall to reveal a brass lever underneath. Yanking it upwards, a section of wall behind them opened up to reveal a dark tunnel. 

“Go!” Ubbe shouted, shoving Moncha through. “Down the stairs and then keep bearing right!”

“But it’s dark!” Moncha said, eyeing the damp brick passageway. “I’ll fall and break my neck!”

“Have Hvitserk hold your hand then if you’re so worried! Fucking go, the both of you! I’ll hold them off!” 

Hvitserk only took long enough to clap Ubbe on the shoulder before he ushered Moncha off in front of him and was gone. The last thing Ubbe saw before he followed them was Harald’s face, twisted in anger. 

“That’s right boy! You better run!” the would-be king of New York called down the tunnel after him. “Run as long as you want - I’ll still find you! You and your entire family!” 

———————————————————————————————————————————

The alley where the three of them emerged was blessedly empty. Their car was destroyed, shot to pieces, but it only took Hvitserk a few minutes to steal them another. The tires squealed as they peeled away towards the Lothbrok’s townhouse, Hvitserk in the driver’s seat and Ubbe in the back with Moncha. 

Slumped in her seat beside him, Moncha started laughing, deep and loud. 

“What?”Ubbe asked her. “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh jus’….” She paused to wipe a tear from her eye, still laughing. “Just you an’ yer brother….an’ back there, an’….jus’….thank ye….thank ye for my life is all….thank ye for savin’ me.”

Ubbe grinned at her, a genuine smile, and grasped her hand, giving her a fond kiss on the knuckles. 

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” 

At the touch of his lips, Moncha scowled and yanked her hand out of his grip. “Ach… _get off!”_

———————————————————————————————————————————

High on the roof of a tenement building above them, three people stood on the roof and watched the car roar away - a dark skinned man in a yellow suit, a red-haired woman wearing deep green, and a dark-haired man in a suit of the purest white. They were smiling as the three of them made their getaway. 

“That’s my girl,” said the red-haired woman proudly. 

The man in yellow smiled and gave her shoulder a fond squeeze. They watched the car drive off until it was lost in the throng of Manhattan traffic, and then one by one, they disappeared. 


End file.
